Going Homeless
by bionic4ever
Summary: One by one, LA's homeless population is being murdered. Steve and Jaime must figure out how this connects to a top-secret government project and stop the violence - any way they can.
1. Prologue

**Going Homeless**

Prologue

Who he was and where he was from were not immediately apparent. The frayed pockets of his tattered jacket held no identification. His two-day growth of beard and the gaunt, haggard condition of his skin marked him as one of Los Angeles' growing number of persons without a place to call home. His entire existence was a mystery, with two obvious exceptions. The tiny piece of circuitry in the man's pocket meant that Oscar Goldman was about to be awakened by a late night phone call. The other obvious fact was that this particular soul no longer carried the weight of his troubles on his pain-hunched back; he was dead.

- - - - - -


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Russ had done his homework well. Five previously unconnected case files from the LAPD waited in a neat stack on the conference room table. Oscar, on his third cup of coffee, began digesting the information while his two best operatives shared breakfast in a back office, catching up after several months apart.

When it was time, Russ almost hated to interrupt them. "He's ready for you," he told them, backing out of the office with a quick, embarrassed smile.

Steve and Jaime reluctantly pulled apart, breaking what had been a warm, welcoming embrace. The lips were still tingling and their hearts were beating in rapid, perfect unison as they headed into the conference room. Oscar held a tiny circuit piece in his hand; he wasn't smiling.

"Late last year," he began grimly, "we launched a cooperative anti-surveilance project with NASA."

"Project Eclipse," Steve offered.

"That's right."

"I took the framework with me on my last trip to Skylab," Steve told Jaime. "The system will become operational when I go back up next month and insert the twelve reprogrammed circuits into the brain of the device."

"You might not be making that trip, Pal," Oscar informed him. "Rudy and his team just completed work on the 11th and 12th components; that's when he discovered the other ten are missing. They could have disappeared anytime within the last two weeks."

"But that doesn't make sense," Jaime protested. "Why wouldn't they wait and grab all 12? I mean, what good is a partial set?"

"They couldn't do much with a full set, either," Steve replied. "Rudy and I are the only ones who know how the whole system gets pieced together. Unless..."

Oscar nodded. "Unless they simply want to launch a surveilance satelite without our new system getting in the way."

"But...we have leads?" Jaime asked, noticing the stack of files.

"Maybe - maybe not," Oscar answered. "Within the last two weeks, five John Does - all apparently vagrants - have been found strangled in the LA area. The last one had a circuit in his pocket when he was found."

Jaime frowned. "Just one?"

"Just one."

"And you think all five men are connected to Project Eclipse?" Steve asked.

"Their manner of death and the fact that they are all unidentified and appeared to be homeless connect them to each other. That circuit piece places the whole case firmly within our jurisdiction."

"What do you need us to do?" Jaime offered.

"LA's homeless population is one of the largest in the country. Steve, you'll be infiltrating the ranks, living among them, to see if there's any sort of buzz about stolen government property or this project. And Jaime, you'll be posing as a social worker sent to help these men re-build their lives. Your ear may prove invaluable in discovering what the real story is. I need you to find out who John Doe #5 - and the four who died before him - might have been. Were they really vagrants, and what - if anything - ties them to Project Eclipse?"

Jaime and Steve both responded with silent, solemn nods. "It won't be easy and it certainly won't be pretty, but with the Pentagon, the Air Force and NASA all launching vital new top-secret projects we'll need Eclipse to secure the integrity of their programs. There is no Plan B. We need to recover the stolen circuits, find out who was behind this and prevent any further security breaches in this project. Russ has all of the cover information you'll need and these files contain copies of all the info we have on al five John Does - including photos, of course. Our handlers will help you with your appearances, and Jaime, they have a car ready for you to use. Steve -"

"Let me guess: I'm going on foot."

Oscar nodded. "Sorry, Pal, but it goes with the territory."

In a grey T-shirt (that had presumably once been white), scuffed and tattered jeans and shoes that were minus the laces, Steve certainly looked the part. As he made his way into the depths of one of the poorest sections of Los Angeles, he could literally _feel_ the stares boring into his back from all the people who'd averted their eyes and pretended not to see him until they'd passed him by.

- - - - - -


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The short rotund woman could've passed for a prison guard in a bad 'B' movie, and she was _not_ happy. "_You're_ the new social worker?" she snapped with a disapproving glance.

"That's me," Jaime said cheerfully.

"Let me guess - another do-gooder from Berkley, right?"

"UCLA, actually," Jaime fibbed, drawing on the info in her cover file. "Name's Jessie Lind."

"Well, la-dee-da for you."

Jaime was not deterred that easily. "And you are...?"

"Your new boss..._if_ you can cut it here, which I doubt."

"Are you gonna tell me your name or do I get to decide what I feel like calling you?"

"So you do have a backbone. You'll need it here - that's for sure."

"Is it that bad?" Jaime asked.

"The ones who need help the most will push you away the hardest...or they just disappear without a word."

"Oh? Does that happen a lot?"

The woman shrugged and waddled back to her desk. "Some are too proud - or too angry - to accept our help. Some, I'd imagine, find jobs on their own and simply lose touch. Others...I just don't know."

"I'd like to help you change that," Jaime offered.

"A nice dream, Sweetie, but this is reality: it's rough, it's ugly and it'll eat you and that Pollyanna attitude alive."

"Look, Lady, I'm no Pollyanna." It wasn't an act; Jaime was thoroughly annoyed. "I'm here, ready to roll up my sleeves and give this job - and these people - everything I've got. Now, if you don't want my help, I will happily apply for reassignment to a different district."

"That won't be necessary," her new boss asserted. "You've got guts and I like that. Jessie, is it? My name is Sarah - Sarah King. Welcome aboard."

While Jaime was working her way into Sarah's good graces, Steve began forging a place for himself in the invisible community that lived below LA's bridges, overpasses and railroad trestles. Nothing could've prepared him for what he was about to see or the people he was about to meet. He had walked on the moon, spent several sessions aboard SkyLab and traveled through more countries than he could begin to count, but now he was about to get his first look at a world he'd never even known existed. His ticket inside came in the form of a tall, lanky stranger named Benny. Unsure of exactly where it was that he should be, Steve hopped up onto a low wall to watch the passersby for any clues.

"You're new here," a voice observed. The young man approached from behind and plunked himself down on the wall next to Steve.

"Yup," Steve told him. "New city for a new start...I hope."

"Got a place yet?"

"No money. Guess you could say I'm wingin' it."

"That your stuff?" the stranger asked, nodding toward the small duffel bag at Steve's feet.

"Yeah. I'm travelin' pretty light; easier that way." Steve eyed the young man carefully. He was a very tall young black man who appeared to be in his late twenties. A little too friendly perhaps, but Steve needed a guide and this man had conveniently presented himself.

"There's a bunch of us that stay under the trestle just down the street. It's sorta noisy but it's 'home'. Couple of good diners nearby - they throw out the good stuff. Good group there, too. You can trust 'em."

"Sounds good," Steve replied. "I'm Kevin."

"Benny. Let's go, then."

Less than a block down the road, the sidewalk dipped and then ended. Benny led Steve down a steep graveled incline into a sort of cavern, sheltered on two sides by the sharp hills and overhead by multiple sets of tracks. An old metal barrel with a grate over the top sat nearly dead center in the encampment, with rolled and wadded up blankets, packing boxes and a couple of small patched pup tents scattered around the outer circle.

Steve dropped his duffel bag to the ground, more than a little shocked at his first glimpse of 'home'.

A few miles away, a man known only as Roger patted his pocket, assuring himself that he still carried his precious cargo. It was so tiny, so very complicated-looking and he had absolutely no idea what it was, but by God, he still had it - as instructed. He also had absolutely no idea he was only minutes away from becoming John Doe #6.

- - - - - -


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

His pockets were empty: no money, no identification...and no circuit pieces. His pants were a size too big, held up by a frayed old canvas belt, and his shirt was too small, stretching uncomfortably across his bony, shrunken chest.

"Strangled, just like the others," Oscar noted grimly. "Let's get him processed."

"Less than 24 hours since the last one," Russ pointed out. "They've definitely picked up the pace."

"There'll be more," Oscar theorized. "My best guess is ten missing pieces...ten bodies. We _have_ to figure out the connection - hopefully before they choose number seven."

"You got a blanket?" Benny asked.

Steve shrugged. "It's June...and it's LA. I'll just put my bag under my head and be fine. A blanket...too hot."

"It's not for a cover," Benny corrected. "You sleep on _top_ of it, unless you like waking up with the creepy crawlies all over you."

"Oh."

"Cardboard works, too, but a blanket is better. Lay one out on top of cardboard and you're all set."

"Little problem there," Steve hedged. "No money."

"I can probably help you get one. I know a place; we'll head over there in a bit. You eat anything?"

"Not lately."

Benny grinned. "You're in luck. Harley found a big bag of donuts and they're in pretty good shape."

"Found?"

"He's the best dumpster diver we've got. Usually brings back enough to share, too. Hey, Harley!"

"You found me; what's up?" A man in his early forties, short and lean, with second-hand spectacles and an easy, friendly manner joined them.

"This here's Kevin," Benny told him. Harley nodded 'hello' with a tipping of an imaginary hat. "Got any breakfast left?" Benny asked.

"Sure do." Harley offered up a small garbage bag. "Help yourself."

"Hey, thanks," Steve replied, choosing a cinnamon sugar ring. It was dry and a little tough (at least two days old) and the sugar had begun to form hard crystals but it was still somewhat edible. Steve was touched by these men's willingness to share the little they had with a total stranger. It was a generosity he hadn't expected and wasn't yet certain he could trust.

"The blankets can go right over there," Sarah instructed.

"Do we really need this many?" Jaime asked, neatly placing the tall stack on a nearby table.

"I wish we had more; these'll be gone before noon." Sarah looked toward the door. "Seems we've already got a couple of takers. May as well open up."

"You're new," Benny observed, eying Jaime as she unlocked the entrance. "Guess we chewed up and spit out another one, huh, Sarah?"

"Laura got transferred," the pudgy director called over her shoulder. "This is Jessie."

Benny nodded respectfully and pulled Steve forward. "This is Kevin. He just got here from...where'd you say you were from?"

"Portland, originally."

"You've certainly come a long way," Jaime noted with a wink at Steve when no one was looking.

"Yeah, but it wasn't 'home' anymore, if you know what I mean," Steve told her. "Benny said you have blankets?"

"Right over there." Jaime couldn't get over the change in Steve. The transformation was total: attitude and posture as well as appearance. "We can probably find you a bed at the Armory, if you're interested -"

"He's not," Benny interjected, butting in very quickly to speak for 'Kevin'. "We've already got a place - and food. Kevin, grab a blanket and let's head out." Benny turned to Jaime. "No offense, Ma'am, but you college-types just have no idea..."

- - - - - -


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Sarah had been right; the blankets were gone by 11am. "Hopefully, we'll have more tomorrow," she told Jaime. "Our truck should be here right before noon. We'll hand out sandwiches for as long as they last - probably about half an hour - then we see clients until it's time to go to the Armory at four."

"How many open beds do we have?" Jaime asked.

"They're _all_ open: ten places for the men and thirty-two for women and children. They line up in the field in the afternoon and when we get there, it's first come, first served."

"So these aren't permanent spots?"

"No. Unfortunately, the facility is only ours from 4pm until 8am. When each client signs in, they receive a cot and bedroll from our storage room and we have volunteers from the local churches who bring dinner - usually soup or a casserole. Our night staff maintains order and makes sure everyone is up and out on time in the morning"

"That's a lot of beds," Jaime noted.

"They're packed awfully tight," Sarah told her, "but it's the best we can do, for now."

"How many do you usually turn away?"

"Too many."

"What happens to them?"

Sarah placed a pudgy, gentle hand on her new worker's shoulder. "We pray for them, Dear."

"You can stow your blanket over there by the cardboard piles for now," Benny said, pointing. "We don't spread out until after dark, when all the job-hunters come bac."

"Same group here every night?" Steve asked, stashing his blanket as instructed.

"Yeah, pretty much. Good bunch of guys, too - we take care of each other."

"There a lot of jobs around here?" Steve wondered.

Benny scoffed. "Maybe...but we never get 'em."

"How come?"

Benny waved a hand, motioning at Steve from head to toe. "Looking like we do, with no permanent address. no decent history..."

Steve nodded. "Gotcha."

The client consultations seemed to run one into the next - vouchers for children's clothing, a few meager groceries, a badly-needed doctor visit - then, at 3:15, a rail-thin woman with dirty blonde hair rushed in. She was only 29 but looked closer to 50; tears streamed down her face. She held a baby in her arms and two small children clung tightly to her hand. She gave her name as Sheila Gravis.

"I can't find my husband!" she wailed, sinking wearily into a chair and pulling her children close to her knees. "He didn't meet up with us this morning, he wasn't here for lunch and no one has seen him since last night!"

"Was he staying at the Armory?" Jaime asked.

"I...I don't know. The men have a separate line. Yesterday, he told me he'd found a way to make us some real good money and that he'd see me in the morning, but...he never came back!"

Jaime was instantly on full alert. "Where was this job?"

"He...didn't say. He told me not to talk about it, so we wouldn't get ripped off when he came back with money, but -"

"Let's ask Sarah if he checked in last night," Jaime suggested.

_"__**No**__!"_ The woman shifted uncomfortably after her sudden outburst, then grew quiet again. "Sarah would _kill_ us! I mean...we could be banned from the program for unreported income..."

"I don't think that should be a worry right now," Jaime told her. "Our main concern is to find your husband...right?"

"Y-y-yes...but..."

"Sheila," Jaime said very gently, "was your husband running drugs?"

"Oh, no! _Roger_ would never do that!

- - - - - -


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Unlike Steve, Jaime was able to walk away, back to a 'normal' life when the day was over. At 7pm, she joined Oscar and Russ in Oscar's office for a late supper/strategy session.

"How was your first day?" Russ asked, passing a container of Moo Shu Pork across the desk.

"It was so sad!" Jaime told them. "There were so many people at the Armory that we had to turn away. My 'supervisor' said there's no way to help everyone and we have to be happy with what we _are_ able to do, but...there has to be a way to do more. There just _has_ to!"

"Any leads on our John Does?" Oscar inquired.

"Not exactly. I had a woman report that her husband is missing, but his picture doesn't match any of the five -"

"Do you have a picture?" Oscar interrupted. "Or a name?"

"Actually, I have both." Jaime pulled the photo Sheila had given her from her purse. "His name is Roger Gravis," she said, handing it to Oscar.

"His name _was_ Roger Gravis," Oscar told her quietly after looking at the picture. "Now, he's Number Six."

Steve (as instructed by Benny) staked his claim just after sundown, and as he spread his blanket atop a thick sheet of cardboard, he admired the stamina of the people who did this every single night. The ground, although softer in the midst of an L.A. summer, had never felt harder. He'd saved half of his sandwich from lunch and ate it now, along with a cup of Harley's coffee.

The men of the trestle were a varied bunch, ranging in age from their late teens to mid-seventies. There were nearly twenty men from all over the country who'd flocked here full of fresh hopes and dreams and found the camaraderie of this trestle community instead.

There was Freddy, age 33, who'd come all the way from Boston, working odd jobs as he crossed the country and sending every penny back home to his family. Bicycle Charlie had the distinction of being the oldest member of the group but got further each day on his two wheels than most did on two legs. Christopher was a young runaway from an upper-middle-class home who was still quite bewildered at the sudden U-turn his life had taken.

Some had been executives once and some had never held a job. Some had families they'd left behind and others were facing the world alone. Not completely alone, though; the one thing everyone in this varied and somewhat threadbare group had was...each other.

Steve made the rounds and joined several conversations but heard nothing about missing men, circuit pieces or government projects, so at 7:30 he headed over the hill to the public rest rooms then sprinted bionically to the nearest payphone.

After ascertaining that Steve was safe but had no new information yet, Oscar handed the phone to Jaime.

"Are you alright?" she asked immediately.

"Lumpy mattress," he quipped, "but otherwise ok. Listen, did you happen to ID the kid I was with at the Center today?"

"Yeah. Sarah said his name is Benny."

"Right," Steve confirmed. I don't have a last name yet, though."

"I do," Jaime told him. "Since he seemed to be joined to your hip, I wanted to have Russ check him out, so I wrestled through some stacks of files and finally found him. He's Benny Carson, age 26, and according to his file at the Center he's from Toledo, Ohio. Russ is running a check right now, if you wanna hang on."

"Actually, I'd better get back before they figure out I'm not in the bathroom."

"Please be careful, Steve," Jaime pleaded.

"You, too. I love you," Steve said softly. "And I'll probably see you at the Center tomorrow."

"Probably?"

"I'll be there," he promised.

"Ok. And...Steve? I love you, too." Jaime hung up the phone and grew very quiet, her eyes far away and her heart firmly with Steve. "I wish he didn't have to stay there..." she whispered.

"He'll be ok, Babe," Oscar told her soothingly, knowing it wasn't enough.

When Russ returned, nothing could calm Jaime's jangled nerves as he shared his news. "We've got a problem,"he announced. "I did statewide searches for Ohio and California and then a national search. No Benny, Ben or Benjamin Carter with that name and date of birth - _anywhere_. Steve's buddy named Benny...doesn't exist."

- - - - - -


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Do they do that all night?" Steve sighed, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the thunder of the train clattering just over their heads.

"_All_ night," Benny confirmed, propping himself up on one elbow and flashing his trademark grin. "When you're tired enough, you won't hear it anymore."

"I'll have to take your word for that." Steve was careful to keep his voice casual, conversational, but (as always) the investigator in him was hard at work. "Ever sleep at the Armory?" he asked.

"Not in this lifetime."

"Gotta be a lot quieter," Steve suggested.

Benny shrugged. "It's not worth the price you pay."

"Free...?" Steve was confused, but sensed he was onto something.

"Maybe you don't pay money, but all the questions are just too damn annoying. Sarah wants your whole life story - three times over - and she...she's just too nosy."

"Seems like she's trying to help," Steve said, groaning softly as another train went by.

"Like I said - the cost is too high."

Sarah King was tired, and her day wasn't even half over. "I need you to do Intake on the new one today, if he comes by," she instructed Jaime.

"New one?"

"The one Benny brought in. Try to get his story, but tread lightly. Some of them would rather keep it close to the vest and we don't want to scare him away but get what you can, if he'll talk to you."

"Name, rank and serial number?" Jaime joked. "Sorry," she added after seeing Sarah's withering glance. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"Name, date of birth, where he's from...the usual stuff. Try to find out if he's got family we can contact -"

"Like an emergency phone number?"

"Exactly. But more than that: I need to know how he got here, what resources he might have available and who, if anyone, he left behind. Then we can figure out the best way to help him."

Jaime nodded silently, already anxiously watching the door for any sign of Steve and 'Benny'.

Steve dug into the sandwich before Jaime had even closed her office door, devouring almost half in a single bite. He took the carton of milk she held out and swigged deeply before finally speaking. "Are we _really_ alone?"

"Yep," Jaime confirmed. "No bugs, if that's what you're asking. And Sarah's out for a few hours, which is why you're here and not in her office." She couldn't resist a quick kiss before seating herself behind the desk. "Are you alright?" she asked in a tense voice.

"Fine. Why so worried? You should know by now that I can take care of myself."

"It's Benny," Jaime began, "He's -"

At that moment, she was interrupted by insistent pounding on the door. "Yo, Kev!" Benny's voice called. "Time's a wastin'! I told ya the price is too high!"

Steve rose to his feet and Jaime hurried to his side, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she whispered in his ear: "He's not who he says he is; please be careful." She let him go reluctantly, trying to force the fear from her mind as she picked up the ringing telephone.

"Are you alone?" Russ asked abruptly.

Jaime's answer was wistful and quiet. "I am now..."

"We just found John Doe Number Seven."

- - - - - -


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Jaime had to think fast. "Kevin, I need you to sign your intake form!" she called out to Steve. Benny kept on walking but something in Jaime's voice made Steve turn around.

"I'll just humor the lady," Steve said easily, "give her an autograph and be right back." Benny walked a few more steps then hoisted himself up onto a low concrete fence to wait.

"They found another body," Jaime whispered as Steve bent over the desk, pen in hand. "_Seven!_ Maybe we should pull you out; I don't trust Benny."

"He seems ok to me," Steve told her. "Actually he's been very helpful."

"He's using a phony name," Jaime explained. Steve raised an eyebrow but let her continue. "He's gotta be running from something...or someone."

"He does seem to move pretty fast, but he's not exactly transient. He knows everybody, so he's obviously been here awhile and -"

"I just don't want you to be Number Eight," Jaime pleaded.

"Maybe that's exactly what need to try to do."

"_Steve!_"

Steve brushed her hand as he headed for the door. "I'll check in when I can and yes, I'll be careful."

"Just don't let 'em get too close," Benny warned as he and Steve headed back 'home'. "They shouldn't need your life history to give you a sandwich."

"Their poster said they have doctors, legal help...even job counseling," Steve noted.

"Yeah, well, if you need that stuff get it somewhere else."

"I could sure use a job...some money, you know," Steve offered casually.

"I'll see what I can do," Benny promised.

"If they can help, wouldn't it be easier to -"

"Just trust me on this one, ok?" Benny stopped in the alley behind a fast food chicken place. "May as well pick up dinner while we're here," he said, throwing open the dumpster.

"From _there?_" Steve tried not to reel too hard in disgust.

Benny shrugged. "You got money?" he asked, grinning. He leaned over the side, feet off the ground, and began rooting through the bags. "Let me know if anyone's coming. They usually throw all the extra chicken from lunch into its own separate bag. And...here it is!" Benny jumped down, prize in hand. "We'll add this to whatever Harley digs up and have us a real fine dinner!"

Steve could hardly wait.

Back at the office, Jaime watched from the huge plate glass window in front until Steve and Benny were out of sight before returning to her desk with a worried sigh. Since Sarah would be meeting her at the Armory today, she took the Armory's Intake clipboard from the drawer and gave it a quick glance on the way to her car.

Each night, the ten men who managed to secure the spots reserved there signed themselves in on that date's Intake sheet. Jaime looked closer at the sheet from the previous day, her first at the Armory. Although every man had written or printed his signature himself, right in front of her, every name on the list now appeared to be written entirely in the same neat, careful handwriting. Even more curious was the fact that although ten men had checked in (with dozens more turned away)...there were only nine names on the list.

- - - - - -


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The cots were packed tighter than fish in a sardine can, but the men were peaceful. Jaime's job would normally have ended after they'd all checked in, but she was following her instincts. Eight of the men were the same ones from the previous night, one had appeared on previous lists and one was a first-time 'guest'. On a hunch, she copied all ten names from the clipboard onto a separate piece of paper and stashed it in her purse, then quietly joined the men.

"How are you gentlemen doing tonight?" she asked cheerfully. Unsure if she was friend or foe, the men merely stared curiously. "I'm trying to chart the frequency of your visits," Jaime fibbed, "and I wonder if you can tell me what time you usually get in line to get your beds...?"

"Why?" one of them asked with a deep, skeptical gaze.

"Just doin' my job," she told them lightly. Jaime took a small notebook from her purse. On the first page she had written the nine names still remaining from the previous day's list. One by one, the 'guests' grudgingly approximated their arrival times for her and she was astonished (and a little dismayed) to learn the line began to form just after noon. To secure a bed for the night, these men had skipped lunch.

She glanced at the furnished times. "So you were first, then, Dave?" she said to the man with the earliest arrival.

"No - Artie was in front of me."

Jaime looked again to be sure; there was no 'Artie' on her list. "Who's Artie?"

"Dunno his whole name, but he used to live with the trestle crowd before he came here."

"Does he come here often?" Jaime wondered.

"He's always first in line - hasn't missed a night in months...except tonight. Funny he's not here..." Dave's voice trailed off. "I kinda miss him," he added. "If you see him, tell him that would ya?"

"I'll see what I can do," Jaime answered with an uneasy smile. She knew it was time to visit the trestle.

Steve pushed the chicken around on the old, cracked plate until hunger finally made him dig in. In addition to the meat he and Benny had found, Harley had also had a lucky day. The supermarket three blocks over had thrown out even more damaged produce than usual, and the trestle men's plates that night were graced with potatoes and carrots, the bad spots carefully removed before they were wrapped in old foil and set in the fire to roast to perfection. A nearby bakery employed a sympathetic worker who'd dropped off several loaves of two-day-old bread. What had once been garbage was now a meal for almost twenty, and once Steve overcame his reluctance he had to admit it wasn't entirely awful.

After dinner, cardboard sheets and blankets once again staked out each man's territory. Bicycle Charlie had found an old deck of cards (the jokers stood in for two missing face cards) and Steve, Benny and Harley joined him for an impromptu game of poker.

"I'll see that bet and raise you one stone and two pebbles," Steve said, placing his wager in the center of their circle. He glanced around the camp; no one appeared to be missing. The headcount came up exactly as the night before - a very good sign. He was thinking of Jaime as the betting moved around the circle, so seeing her at the top of one of the hills didn't seem abnormal...at first. Then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, Jaime was gone.

- - - - - -


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Steve folded (his hand wasn't great anyhow) and left the circle under the ruse of a trip to the restrooms. He had to double back to the other side of the opposite hill and, with no one watching, he covered the distance in just seconds.

As he'd hoped, Jaime was waiting for him. Grateful for the opportunity he gathered her into his arms in the darkness between two concrete pillars for a lingering kiss.

"Checking up on me?" he asked, unwilling to break the embrace.

"That too," Jaime confirmed. "I've got some leads..."

"Oh?"

"See if your new friends remember someone named Artie. Word is he used to stay here before he went to the Armory. Now...I think he's our Number Seven."

"Sounds like the action's on your end," Steve noted. "All I've got tonight is a bad game of poker. I'll see what I can find out for you."

"Someone's altering records, too," Jaime said, detailing what she'd found out so far. "I'm gonna tell Sarah I want to work an overnight at the Armory to get my feet wet; then I might get to see what actually goes on up there."

"Maybe I'll head over there tomorrow, too."

Jaime shook her head. "You've really got an 'in' with these guys and I wouldn't give that up just yet. Might be useful. Besides, I've got a real bad feeling about that place..."

"Maybe you're right." Steve knew that arguing with Jaime when she'd made up her mind was futile. He didn't tell her that his real intention was to be first in the Armory line the next day. She'd find out soon enough; there was no point in worrying her now.

Steve had no success in getting information about Artie. Of course, Benny and Harley remembered him but as for a last name or any other details...he had nothing. They weren't evasive or troubled by the question, but his search for answers had drawn a blank. He hoped that Jaime was having better luck.

"There's really no reason for you to do that," Sarah argued the next morning. "We have plenty of overnight staff and besides, I need you here."

"I'll do both," Jaime suggested. "I'd really like to get a clearer picture of _all_ the services we offer, to make me better able to -"

"It'll only burn you out - and break your heart. You're still too fresh, Sweetie, and it's just too ugly. I'm afraid I can't allow it. Not yet, anyway."

"One night - just to see how it works -"

"There's nothing you need to see there and I've already explained to you how it works Maybe in a few weeks, when you're a little more experienced."

"Alright,"Jaime sighed, only pretending to agree.

When she took her place outside the Armory just before 4:00, Jaime could barely hide her dismay - Steve was first in line. She raised an eyebrow at him as he signed in; any discussion would have to come later. Seeing him there, though, made her even more determined to spend the night inside.

Meanwhile, Steve hung back a moment then followed the other men as they shuffled vacantly down the hall to the supply closet. He lingered just long enough among the rusty cot frames to end up alone. As he picked one up and headed for the door, a familiar voice stopped him.

"First time here, I see. Need to make some money...?"

As soon as the men had been checked in and the throng began to turn away to find other arrangements for themselves, Jaime copied the ten men's names in her notebook and moved around the side of the building until she found an underground entrance. It turned out to be the Armory's bomb shelter, and another door led directly up into the first floor hallway. Jaime hurried up a second set of stairs and peeked in a window at the far end of the meeting room that (at night) was also the mens dormitory. By this time, the men were set up, the cots side-by-side and end-to-end in the tiny, airless room.

There were only nine of them.

- - - - - -


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Piece Number Eight was in his pocket in a tiny (sealed) yellow envelope and Steve was alone. There'd been no time to cal for back-up or even alert Jaime. His 'benefactor' had sent him directly into a deserted, dead-end alley where he was to wait for a contact who would trade a larger envelope for his small one. The contents - five thousand dollars - would be his to keep. Except Steve knew that what was coming his way was _not_ money...and he intended to be ready.

"Where's Kevin?" Jaime asked, deciding instantly that finding Steve was more important than staying hidden.

"Who?" the men asked so numbed by their own lives that they barely glanced up from their cots.

"He was first in line - and first to sign in," Jaime explained. "I watched him come inside."

"Oh - the new guy?" Dave asked.

"Right. You saw him?"

"He was right behind me - like he didn't know where he was going - then...he wasn't."

"Where'd you see him last?" Jaime pressed gently.

"Back in the -" Dave's eyes (and everyone else's) grew wide as the door flew open with an angry _slam_.

"Jessie, _what_ are you doing here?" Sarah King demanded. Jaime opened her mouth to answer but the 'boss' was on a roll. "Didn't I tell you..." she seethed, her face twisted with anger. "Never mind. We need to talk - _**NOW**_." Sarah moved toward the door with an attitude that made it clear she expected Jaime to follow. Silently, Jaime did. "Wrong," Sarah insisted, grabbing Jaime's arm as they approached the street exit. "You're not leaving." She opened the furnace room door and, with a gun she pulled seemingly out of nowhere, forced Jaime inside.

Jaime took a good look at the gun and the woman who stood between her and the door. "So...I guess I'm fired, huh?"

Steve didn't have much time to ponder the irony of being at a 'dead end' before a set of quick footsteps broke the silence. He could barely make out the tall, lanky form in the darkness but his ears confirmed what his eyes were trying to tell him.

"Aw, man," the low, friendly voice sighed, "you shouldn't be out here."

_"Benny?"_ As his 'friend' ambled toward him, Steve was jerked backward by the quick violent snap of a wire around his neck. Dangerously close to blacking out, he reached up with his right hand to break the wire's deadly grip and kicked backward toward the doorway that shielded his attacker. At the same time, unexpectedly strong hands began to pull and Steve felt himself fall forward.

"Who are you?" Sarah demanded. "And why are you _really_ here?"

"I thought you read my background file..." Jaime hedged.

"A brilliant work of fiction." Sarah motioned toward the back of the furnace room. "Get over there, against the wall, and sit down." Her eyes stone-cold, she cocked the gun. "I'm not joking; do it now." She pulled several lengths of rope from a hook on the wall and, still holding the gun in firing position, tied Jaime's hands tightly behind her back. "FBI?" Sarah speculated as she secured Jaime's legs from ankle to knee with thick coils and strong knots. "OSI? NSB? They'd probably pay plenty to get you back...but I don't have time for that." Standing just feet away, she leveled the gun toward Jaime's head. "And you have no time left at all."

Sarah was right about that. There was no time for questions, reasons or talk of any kind. Almost on auto-pilot, Jaime's bound legs swung upward, connecting squarely with Sarah's knee caps, breaking the ropes and landing Jaime on her feet - all in one brilliantly-timed split second of motion. Sarah flailed angrily, managing to fire two shots before her head slammed into one of the boilers on her way down. Except for a loud, ominous _hiss_, the whole world seemed to go silent.

- - - - - -


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Before his eyes could focus, Steve swung his arm on blind instinct, sending Benny crashing into the wall. Surprisingly, the young man struggled back to his feet, lurching in Steve's direction.

"You don't want me to hit you again," Steve warned, reaching for the man with the wire (who'd tumbled backward into the stairwell he'd just emerged from).

Benny took a step back, his eyes moving back and forth between Steve and the fallen attacker. "You alright, Kev?" he stammered. "I'll handle him - you get outta here." His jaw dropped as he watched Steve twist the wire that had nearly killed him into manacles for the assailant's wrists, securing him to a railing. "Unless...you...I guess you don't need my help...!"

"Start talking, Benny," Steve demanded, backing his 'friend' into a dark corner. "Who's paying you?"

"Huh? Nobody has to pay me; I'm just glad you're ok. Man...how'd you _do_ that?"

"I'm asking the questions. Who's your friend over there?"

"I've never seen him before!" Benny insisted.

"So you were supposed to meet him here and - what? Get the envelope?"

"_What envelope?_ Kev, what the _hell_?"

Steve grabbed Benny's collar - and a bit of his throat - and raised him just off of his feet, glaring at him as he dangled. "Who sent you here?"

"Man," Benny gasped, "I was lookin' for you!"

"Obviously!" Steve growled.

"You...you weren't at lunch...you didn't come 'home' tonight...I was...worried."

Even in the darkness, Steve could see the younger man meant it. His eyes held no animosity or deviance - only concern. Still...

"Who are you - and tell me the truth this time," Steve ordered. "Benny Carson doesn't exist."

"You got me there, Man. And I'll tell you - only...can you put me down, first?" Benny requested. Steve set him carefully back on his feet and let go of his throat but kept a guarded grip on his shirt collar, just in case. "So - talk," he demanded again.

"Fine," the young man sighed, standing a little straighter as he dropped the 'street stance'. "My name is Carter Benjamin. I'm a writer."

"Great work, Pal," Oscar exulted as Steve's attacker was hauled away. Carson Benjamin was also on his way back to OSI-LA to give his statement, and without realizing it, both Steve and Oscar had the same thought on their mind.

"Where's Jaime?" Oscar voiced it first.

Steve frowned. "I thought she'd be with you by now. She left the Armory just after 4:00."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, no - I went inside. That's when the King woman approached me. I didn't see Jaime after that -"

"When I spoke to her this afternoon," Oscar explained, "she thought she was onto something but that was hours ago. She should have phoned in by now." Oscar looked toward the car, where Russ had just hung up the car phone and was shaking his head. "We can't find her," Oscar said urgently, "or Sarah King."

The caravan of cars sped urgently toward the Armory but had to stop short to avoid slamming into the throng of people milling around outside. Steve jumped out of the car and began to run - with the screeching sound of the building's fire alarm drowning out the noise of the crowd.

- - - - - -


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

With no visible flames or smoke, there appeared to have been a false alarm. Steve scanned the crowd as he reached the entrance but the face he'd hoped - _needed_ - to see was not there.

"Sir, you can't go in there yet," a fireman told him, blocking the door. "We have to clear the building first."

Steve flashed his ID, aware that in his current state (dressed as 'Kevin' with a two-day growth of beard and a stubborn layer of trestle dust) he barely resembled the photo. "Federal agent," he said with authoritative urgency. "We've got a suspect - and another agent - still in there." Without pausing for further debate he edged his way inside.

There may not have been a visible fire to fight, but a life or death battle was still raging inside the building. One bullet had broken the hot water pipe that ran directly above the door, knocking it down to block the only exit and sending clouds of steam and scalding water into the tiny furnace room. The second bullet (fired as Sarah was falling) had torn into Jaime's leg just above the knee and traveled downward to lodge near her ankle, making a quick escape next to impossible.

Unsure of what Sarah's next move might be, Jaime had pulled the fire alarm to clear everyone else from the building. "Look," she began, circling behind the furnace, "I don't know who you think I am, but -"

"I don't care who you are!" Sarah's eyes glowed crazily as she, too, circled the furnace, dodging the hot water and waving the gun. "You're going to die! Then I'll get a new flunky and life will go on."

"Why'd you do it, Sarah?" Jaime asked softly, stalling for time. If they circled just a little bit more, maybe she could make a break for the door. "Was it the money...or something else?"

"You really _are_ a stupid little twit," Sarah scoffed. "Of course it was money - and lots of it! On one side, I had people paying me to destroy that little science project NASA was building, and on the other, I got paid for every circuit delivered. Double the wealth!"

"And none of it for your couriers," Jaime deduced, "because you killed them."

"Well, not me personally, of course. But they certainly were a handy group. They'll do almost anything for the promise of a couple of thousand bucks, then..." Sarah's voice faded off into an evil, almost witch-like cackle.

"Who was paying you?" Jaime persisted. "You might get a reduced sentence if you -"

"_Shut up!_ I won't be getting any sentence because I'll be leaving here without you. Like I said - life will go on." She raised the gun once more. "Except for you."

Jaime ducked instinctively just before a bullet whizzed past her head. "You've done so many good things in your career," she told her former 'boss'. "It doesn't have to end in ugliness. Why don't you just walk out with me now and -"

"I said _**shut up**__!_" Sarah circled back toward the door as Jaime weaved and reached out to grab her. She got off one more shot, into the ceiling, as the door came flying open and the pipe sailed free, slamming her in the head and knocking her back to the ground. This time, she stayed down, cringing at the scalding water but too dazed to get up.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked anxiously, reaching Jaime in less than an instant.

"My leg isn't - but all things considered..." Emotionally and physically exhausted, she fell gratefully into Steve's arms.

- - - - - -


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

"Hey Kev - that you?" The voice was the same, and the young man ambling toward them wore Benny's trademark grin, but Carson Benjamin was dressed to the nines in a brand-new powder-blue leisure suit, shiny-blue shirt and skinny white tie.

"He cleans up pretty nicely, doesn't he?" Jaime said, smiling broadly at Steve as she walked with her arm in his. "And so do you, Carson."

"Thanks. But I really do like 'Benny' better. Been my nickname most of my life."

"It suits you," Steve agreed. "And you can call me Steve."

"And I'm Jaime."

"It's great to finally _really_ meet you both. And you're...together, I take it?" Benny asked.

"Very," Steve confirmed with his own smile.

"I'm glad; you make a really nice picture."

One by one, they took their turns with the shovel: Jaime, Steve, Benny, Harley, Bicycle Charlie and Sheila Gravis. Each turned one shovel of dirt, then walked among the strung-up ribbons that marked where each room of the new Eclipse Home and Shelter would be built. There would be 12 semi-permanent and 6 emergency beds for male residents and 32 semi-permanent and 16 emergency beds for women and children. A large room just off the women's section was earmarked for 'Sheila's Daycare' and a room in the middle, which would be filled with comfortable chairs and rows and rows of shelves, would soon be called 'Carson's Corner'. A huge room in the back, with a kitchen to be built just behind it, would proudly bear a sign reading 'Harley's Place'. The soup kitchen would feed not only the clients of Eclipse, but hundreds of the area's hungriest residents, as well - solely on community-donated food and labor. A shed out back would soon be filled with bicycles to be signed out by anyone with the need and would be labeled 'Charlie's Bike Shack'.

Jaime sighed with contentment as she turned around for one more look. "We can't help everyone, but at least we can do something - and I'm so grateful for that."

Benny nodded wisely. "If everyone did _something_, that's all it would take..."

END


End file.
